That crazy, wild party came to be known between Henry and I as "The Night at Pine Drive" -- named for the street where it all went down. To me, personally, it was "that party with Alex" forever, two experiences I'm not sure I would ever be able to separate in my brain. Alex was that party, that party was Alex -- they were one in the same in my brain.
Stumbling home with Henry that night was an exercise of me struggling against his arm, him all but carrying me back to my dorm. In a complete stupor, I had somehow managed to pull off my nicest brown boat shoes, socks, shorts, and tore a button off my nice blue shirt taking it off which I discovered the next morning with a sigh.
That next morning, I woke up to the incredibly grating chirp of my cellphone. Even buried in a pile of clothing, in a tiny dorm room with a formidable hangover, the thing was a monster. I kept my eyes shut hard to keep the light from the window above my bed and pretended like I could possibly fall asleep again, with a blaring phone and 11:00 AM sunlight pouring in.
Well, there was the phone, the sun, and also my viciously hard cock. After my tryst with Alex in the bathroom, both of us had painfully unfinished business and now, pressing out of my boxer briefs was the fruit of our labor. I pulled my white comforter back to reveal my fair, taut stomach and again grinned at the very beginning of a nice set of abs. Further down, I could see the very beginning of my thighs, lightly dusted in thin brown hairs.
And the main event: I slid my hand down my stomach, under the waist band, and took grasp at the base of my cock. I honestly felt that I had a nice cock -- a decent tube of flesh topping at slightly over seven inches and somewhere inbetween average and thick. It was a fine, weighty dick, and it was mine. My other hand grazed my nipple as I took to stroking it, alternating between gentle caress and firm, hard strokes.
Sex was great. Giving a blowjob yesterday afternoon while I roughly stroked my dick had been awesome. My short-but-amazing blow for the stud, Alex, had been incredibly hot and intoxicating too. Still, there was something so uniquely great about taking care of my own dick in my own good time after sleeping in on a Friday. My head was hammering with the sudden rush of blood to my dick mixed with a hangover, but my piece was throbbing much worse.
My toes curled and my legs shook as my breath quickened. This time, I didn't need porn -- just the sweet image of Alex or David's cock flashing through my mind -- before four hot jets of cum came flying out of my dick and hit my cheek and chin. I had a long history of shooting loads pretty decently far, even as a young teen. For a few moments, I didn't even move to clean up. I just started up through the window over the head of my bed, squinting through the blinds at rays of clear blue sky. Yesterday had been incredible.
Alas, the day would have to go on. I used my underwear to mop up the cum on my stomach and face -- a terrible, lazy habit of cum disposal that I hadn't been able to kick yet. I discarded them on the floor and finally went rummaging for my phone, now completely naked. I sat cross-legged on the floor amidst my dirty clothes and saw a missed call from Henry, the call that had woken me up.
He had sent a text shortly after, reading out: "Breakfast?" I sighed and rolled my eyes with relief that the awkward encounter last night of him catching me in the bathroom with Alex hadn't caused a rift, evidently. Much of the prior evening was a blur to me now, but the embarrassment of those few moments was still red hot and crystal clear.
"Sorry sorry. Just woke up. Plans later?" I texted back, clearly having missed breakfast but still hoping to get together with Henry for Friday night. I sprawled out on the floor, still naked and stretched my legs and arms out. In a dorm room as small as mine, this meant sticking my feet under the corner of my bed and desk. I felt only slightly nauseous but the light rays from outside made me wish I could melt into the floor.
Henry had replied, "Hungover?" and we started a text conversation about the girl he had met last night and been dancing with. I pulled on a slick pair of black boxer briefs, my favorite pair, and with an out-of-character confidence I walked into the shared kitchen for a glass of water.
If Henry and I had gotten wild last night, Jake and Dean had clearly taken things a step further in a party for two. The counter now offered an array of hard liquors, and the boys had clearly lost their ability to pour accurately about halfway through the night as the kitchen reeked of alcohol. A bottle of vodka sat in a puddle that had been left without a towel, and I couldn't help myself from retching at the abrasive scent.
I held my breath as I passed through the kitchen to the fridge and filled a glass. I raggedly exhaled two full lungs of air when I turned around to face the couch and saw Jake there in his boxers, and his completely erect cock hanging out a leg. Jake had a total babyface and in the light from the window looked angelic, not to mention a thinner but long cut dick hanging out. Until yesterday, I hadn't considered my roommates for much, but seeing Jake lying there with a slight glaze of party sweat over him had me hardening in my underwear for the second time that morning.
I grinned to myself, took a final mental snapshot of Jake, and went to shower the drunken antics of last night off of my body.
Freshly dressed in another pair of shorts and a tee, I sat to study for a few hours while absentmindedly texting Henry and my older brother, who worked as an architect in Florida. I was blissfully unaware of how dire my circumstances were about to become when I received a calendar alert on my phone that read: Advisor Appointment -- 10 Minutes.
I was fucked. In the excitement of the morning and the low dull of being hungover, I had completely forgotten about my first meeting with my student advisor which was conveniently located across campus in the admin buildings. In seconds, I was slinging my bag over my shoulder and slipping into running shoes before bursting out into the living room to make the appointment.
"Hey we're gonna get lun--" Dean asked, but I was already closing the front door on his face.
I felt bad for that and would text him an apology later, but there's this thing about me. Anxious, nervous, straight-A student Connor Witmer just isn't late. I couldn't remember a time I had ever missed an appointment and I held a strong fear of disappointing adult authority figures. I hadn't even met my advisor yet, but the thought of tucking my tail between my legs and being even three minutes late was completely unbearable to me.
I sprinted across campus, and I really mean sprinted. My head was still hurting and my joints ached so fucking bad, but I booked it from my dorm at The W to the admin buildings like I had been trying out for the track team. By the time I walked into the student advising office, my face was sweaty and I'm sure I looked like a complete wreck. But I was here, on time, with a minute to spare.
